


newton's laws of (e)motion

by aiyah



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baseball, Childhood Friends, Crushes, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25799857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiyah/pseuds/aiyah
Summary: As far as Zuko's concerned, he's pretty sure that he strikes out whenever Sokka's around... or does he?
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 344





	newton's laws of (e)motion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plumbagospirits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumbagospirits/gifts).



> (also for foxxy, but they already know that)
> 
> ryan's pretty much read and commented on every single thing i've written, so i thought i'd surprise you with a cute lil' oneshot to brighten up your day! i hope you enjoy ( : 
> 
> based on [this tiktok that i've watched about a million times even though i don't have a tiktok](https://www.tiktok.com/@thescore/video/6810426871570894086)
> 
> unbeta'd as always, all mistakes are mine :^)

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

 _Every object persists in its state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line unless it is compelled to change by forces impressed on it_.

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and Zuko is cursing his very existence.

(Well, _curse_ might be a strong word for a ten-year-old. It’s more like a silent tantrum, really. Spirits know what his father would do to him if he ever caught Zuko _cursing_ , of all things.)

Honestly, Zuko hasn’t planned on doing much today. He’s already finished whatever summer reading assignments his father gave him _and_ he doesn’t have _shodō_ calligraphy practice with Uncle Iroh until next week. Now Zuko’s just in his room, kneeling on the floor as he drops crickets into Druk’s reptile tank and watching his pet bearded dragon gobble them up.

By most accounts, Zuko’s the textbook definition of an introvert, and he generally prefers curling up in the attic reading novels over running around outside. “ _He’s just shy_ ,” Ursa says whenever anyone asks, her low tone betraying concern for her oldest. Zuko, after all, has never shown any inclination towards anything involving soil or sunshine, and she wonders if it had been a good idea to introduce him to the works of Hemingway at such a young age. Children should be wandering outside, scooping up rocks, and making mud pies. Ursa worries that Zuko will never literally see the light of day.

Which brings us to one particular summer day, with the sun drooping lazily in the sky and a gentle wind rustling through the trees. Zuko thinks back to how things turned out this way. It had started with Ursa coaxing—or _forced_ , rather—his younger sister to take him outside. (“But Mother—” “Azula, if you don’t take your brother out this instant, there will be no ice cream after dinner for either of you.”) And Azula, with the _no-ice-cream_ threat dangling over her head, had trampled up into the attic and dragged a baffled Zuko by the collar of his neatly-ironed polo downstairs through the screen door, past their backyard, and straight towards the hill overlooking their neighborhood turtleduck pond.

Azula deposits her older brother on a particularly green patch of grass with a loud thud. Zuko glares at his sister.

“Now, Zuzu,” Azula begins, and Zuko cringes instinctively at the nickname, “Mother said you needed to come outside for some fresh air.”

No response. Zuko rubs at the grass stains on his pants and wonders how they’ll ever come out.

“So that’s why you’re out here,” Azula continues. “And I know that you won’t listen to me and you’ll probably want to go home. But I’m telling you—I’ll beat you up if you go back inside before I come back. Or I’ll tell Mother that you took all her _origami_ paper and folded it into paper airplanes.”

Still no response. Azula looks down at her brother. Zuko has long abandoned his fruitless cleaning, opting instead to idly pick at the blades of grass surrounding his feet.

“Are you even listening, you dummy?” Azula stomps in frustration, amber eyes glowering. “Fine. Play with your grass. I don’t care. I’m gonna go play with Mai and Ty Lee. I’ll be back before dinner. And stay here. Or else.”

With a final huff and a glare, Azula runs down the hill and out of Zuko’s sight.

Now Zuko is not a petulant child, by any means. Ursa would tell others that he was the more patient and caring of her two children, but that doesn’t mean that Zuko isn’t prone towards the occasional tantrum. _It’s not fair!_ he thinks to himself. Why did Mother insist that he had to go outside? Inside was much better—with his books and his puzzles and his watercolors. Outside is too bright, too much to handle, and it isn’t like anyone wants to hang out with “Azula’s weirdo brother”, either (here, Zuko mockingly twitches his fingers in air quotes). So _what_ if Zuko prefers Jay Gatsby to Junie B. Jones? And _so what_ if he barely has any idea what Pokémon is? That’s not his problem—Zuko just likes his books. That’s all.

 _Whump_.

Zuko’s so lost in his thoughts that he momentarily wonders why the world’s turning upside-down—and then he’s tumbling down the hill. He can hear yelling and the sound of pounding footsteps, but he’s far more concerned about his predicament. Zuko closes his eyes and prays as he rolls down the hill. Maybe he should’ve gone with Azula. Maybe he should’ve just stayed home. And _oh spirits, what if his father saw him now?_

And just like that, Zuko bumps to a stop against something hard. Something warm. He opens his eyes.

“You okay?” A boy peers down at him. Whoever this boy is, he has a pretty face, dotted with freckles and painted with the bluest eyes Zuko has ever seen in his life. Zuko decides he likes him. The boy looks nice. The boy looks like an—

“Angel?” _Oh, no_. He did _not_ just say that out loud.

“Angel?” The other boy squints in confusion. “What’re you talking about?”

“Um.” _Great job, Zuko. He definitely doesn’t think you’re a weirdo now_.

“You okay there? That was a pretty bad spill.”

“I’m sorry,” Zuko groans as he scrambles to his knees, wincing at the pain in his side. The boy immediately reaches out a hand to steady him. “My name is Zuko. And this fall was rather… unexpected.”

“Well yeah, I’d think so. I think my sister got you good.” The other boy shakes his head and turns towards the top of the hill, hands cupped together. “ _Kaaaaaat!_ Get your butt down here!”

A tiny head pokes out from behind a tree. It’s too far away for Zuko to see who it is. “But _Sokkaaa!_ ”

“You gotta say sorry! I’m not gonna get in trouble for something you did!” the boy screams back, and the head disappears from behind the tree. The boy— _Sokka, is it?_ —turns back towards Zuko, a faint grin on his face. “Sorry ‘bout that. Katara and I were playing around ‘cause our dad just got us some new gloves and I wanted to try them out, y’know. And then we were just walking around and I think Katara got a little excited, and I guess I didn’t see where we were going and—” he stops, face reddening. “Uh. you probably didn’t wanna hear all of that, right?”

“No, you’re fine.” Zuko manages to smile. It’s been a while since other people have willingly talked to him, and he wonders if he’s doing it all right.

The awkward silence is punctured by a small girl dashing down from the hilltop towards them. Zuko dimly recognizes her as the face from behind the tree. The girl comes to a stop in front of Zuko, a guilty look on her face.

“I don’t know what Sokka told you about me but I’m really sorry about that! I didn’t mean to throw the ball at you. I thought it would come back.” The girl shifts uneasily from one foot to the other. “I’m Katara, not Kat, by the way. Please don’t tell on me. I don’t wanna be stuck inside my room for the rest of summer.”

And even though Zuko knows that little sisters can be annoying, there’s just something about Katara’s pleading eyes staring back at him that touches his heart. “It’s okay. I know that you didn’t mean it. It didn’t hurt that much. Sokka told me that you were trying out gloves?”

“Oh, yeah!” Katara pulls off her glove and thrusts it into Zuko’s arms, the smell of new leather writing through the air. “See? Isn’t it cool? Oh, do you wanna play with us? We could be friends! This is gonna be so much fun! Right, Sokka?”

Sokka nods. “I mean, yeah? Why not?”

Zuko turns to look towards Sokka, then back at Katara. _Friends?_ In the ten years of his life, no one (not even Azula, but Azula didn’t really count because she was his sister and Azula doesn’t _have friends_ , either) has ever asked to be friends with him. There’s something bubbling inside his chest, something unfamiliar yet comforting.

“Friends…” Zuko hesitates, the word bouncing around his mouth like a tapioca pearl. “Friends sounds nice—”

He barely has a second to finish his thought before Katara’s grabbing his hand and leading him up the hill, chattering about all the different games they could play and _Zuko, do you wanna come over to play Monopoly with us? Sokka always cheats_. Zuko just clings on for dear life.

He doesn’t notice Sokka’s timid gaze in his direction.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

_Force is equal to the change in momentum per change in time. For a constant mass, force equals mass times acceleration._

“There you are! Hey, gimme some.” Zuko barely has time to look up before his cup of Thai iced tea is plucked out of his hands and a black backpack is unceremoniously tossed on the table, narrowly missing his laptop. Sighing, he closes _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ and turns towards the voice, mouth curling into a smile as his best friend slides into the chair next to him.

Sokka winks, lips pursed over the straw as he inhales the last of Zuko’s drink. “Thanks, dude.”

“You didn’t even ask,” Suki pipes up from her perch across the table, a pen twirling between her fingers. “But I guess since it’s Zuko, you didn’t have to.”

“Oh, shut up.” Zuko chucks the empty cup in her direction. Suki catches it, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “Besides, Zuko knows that I’m a _caffeine machine_.”

A collective groan emanates around the table. “C’mon. It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“And _that’s_ why Mr. Pakku doesn’t like you.” Katara looks like she’s close to drowning in the stacks of AP study guides arranged precariously around her.

“Well, I’d probably like him more if he _Pakku_ -d my interest,” Sokka pokes. Another unanimous sigh.

“Zuko, please tell me how you’ve put up with my brother for so long?”

“You’re his sister, Katara. Shouldn’t you already know how to do that?” Zuko tilts his head.

“Well yeah, kinda, but like—” Katara gesticulates wildly in their general direction with her highlighter. “Even I can’t stand half the things that he does. So how do you do it?”

“It’s an art form,” Zuko shrugs. People have often wondered how he and Sokka had stayed friends for so long, especially seeing as how they have almost nothing in common. “You and that Qanik boy are day and night,” his mother had said once when Sokka came over for dinner, shaking her head as she watched Sokka dig into his bowl of _soba_ while Zuko picked at each strand delicately with his chopsticks. And she was right—to some degree. Sokka’s loud, gregarious, and overly passionate about every single thing. And Zuko—Zuko is quiet, reserved, and relatively deadpan.

Except when it comes to baseball, of course.

After that memorable summer day (or “The Day Zuzu Finally Made A Friend,” as Azula likes to put it), Zuko had decided to take up baseball as a hobby. It had come as a shock to Ursa, who now watched as her oldest marched through the doorway every afternoon with dirt-stained knees and a feverish look in her eyes—but she would merely sigh and send him to wash up before dinner. Zuko’s habit of unnervingly staring at things had also morphed into some sort of supernatural ability in perceiving different pitching styles and giving him an edge on the field.

(That’s all according to Sokka, really.)

The two of them were practically joined at the hip throughout the rest of elementary school and into junior high, trading baseball cards during lunch and playing catch after school. If Zuko wasn’t busy working through Kumon workbooks or if Sokka wasn’t preoccupied with helping out in his Uncle Bato’s auto repair shop, the two would hit up the batting cages, swinging for hours until their arms were sore and their minds clear.

(Sort of.)

You see, Zuko had come upon a startling discovery one day as he watched Sokka run through pitching drills in his backyard. As the last remnants of the waning sun brushed through Sokka’s dark wolftail with thick strokes, Zuko had thought about how perfect his life was. Just him and Sokka, alone in the sunset. He had noticed how the rhythmic thumps of the baseballs against the pitcher’s pocket echoed his own heartbeat, and a warmth had crept up from his chest and blossomed into his cheeks.

Zuko hadn’t told anyone. Well, he had mentioned it once, once to his cousin when Lu Ten had come by to help him with his calligraphy. Zuko had always looked forward to his cousin’s visits, and his favorite part was going out into the yard and playing catch. This visit was no different—somehow, their brushes had morphed into baseball gloves, the paper crumpled into a baseball as they found themselves outside near the turtleduck pond and tossing the ball back and forth.

“I think I’m in love with my best friend,” Zuko had said as he threw the ball towards his cousin.

Lu Ten had caught it gracefully in his grasp and smiled at him. “And how does that make you feel?”

“Scared, I think? And hesitant. I don’t think they see me that way,” Zuko had replied, trying his best to conceal his thoughts. He hadn’t told anyone before about his interest in guys over girls, and he didn’t think his father would approve at all.

“I’m sure it’ll all work out, especially if Sokka’s involved,” Lu Ten had grinned before tossing the ball back towards Zuko.

“But—but I didn’t—name—Sokka—how did you—” Zuko had fumbled with the ball in his grip.

“Relax.” Lu Ten had walked over and slung an arm around his back. “You didn’t have to say anything. I’m here for you.”

The only other person who probably has any idea about how Zuko feels is Suki, but then again, she’s always been pretty perceptive. Suki had tried to bring it up once, about how cute Zuko and Sokka would be together. But Zuko had firmly reminded her that first, he was pretty sure that Sokka didn’t swing that way, and second, that they were going to different high schools because Ursa had enrolled him at Agni Kai the week before. That did little to dissuade Suki, and she promptly organized weekly study sessions at Deja Brew for the entire gang to hang out.

(Suki claims it’s because Zuko needs to chill with his real friends. Zuko thinks it’s just an excuse for her to watch him silently freak out whenever Sokka arrives.)

“Zuko? You listening?” A sudden poke in his shoulder, and Zuko’s startled out of his daydreaming. Sokka’s gazing at him again. “Dude, you okay?”

“I’m fantastic,” Zuko whispers hoarsely. Sokka just cocks an eyebrow.

“Anyways, what’re you doing here, Sokka?” Katara’s already put away her books and is eating her way through an enormous salad. “I thought you said you couldn’t make it today.”

“Yeah, but practice was canceled, so here I am.” Sokka smirks. “Just came here to see what all y’all dorks are up to this beautiful Saturday afternoon.”

“Well, I _was_ studying for human geography,” Katara points to her closed books. “And Aang’s writing God-knows-what for his philosophy class. And I think Suki’s trying to hack into Mr. Piandao’s computer.”

“I _know_ for a fact that I got higher than a B on that paper, okay?” Suki mutters as she furiously types away into her laptop, keys clicking loudly against her fingertips. “It was a good one. Piandao just doesn’t acknowledge good writing when he sees it.”

Zuko blinks. “Does that merit illegally breaking into his computer, though?”

“You can just say _hacking_.” Sokka snorts. “You’re killing me, dude.”

“I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.” Sokka’s phone chirps, and Zuko watches as his best friend’s eyes light up. “Aw, hell yeah.”

“Pardon?”

“Dude, I got a date with Yue. Y’know, Yue Liang?” Sokka waggles his eyebrows. “Only _the_ hottest girl at Omashu High? I’ve been trying to get her to go on a date with me since freshman year. It’s only taken, what, like three years for her to say yes?”

Zuko can feel his heart sinking, a heaviness lodging into his ribs and pulsing erratically. No. He doesn’t want to hear about this. Not after all the hours he’s spent wondering how to talk to Sokka about his feelings, about his thoughts, _about them_. “I don’t really do the whole feelings thing,” Sokka had said once, so Zuko had neatly packed his emotions into a box and shoved them away deep under his bed.

One look at Sokka’s shining eyes, and Zuko knows he can’t stay.

“That’s… that’s great, Sokka.” Zuko hurriedly shuffles his book into his messenger bag and loops it around his shoulder. “Really… great. I hope you have a great time with her.”

“Hey, where're you going?” Sokka seems perplexed.

Zuko’s mind rattles as he tries to come up with an excuse. “Um, Azula—uh, she set the microwave on fire, and—um, I need to go home to figure it out before our father comes home.”

And with that, Zuko bolts out of Deja Brew in a flash, leaving a confused Sokka behind.

Suki shakes her head. _Idiots_.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

_For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction._

“Huo, you’re up.” Coach Zhao cuffs Zuko on the back. “And even though I’m not supposed to say this,” the coach pauses and whispers, “give ‘em hell.”

Zuko’s stomach twists uncomfortably as he adjusts his helmet and strides out the dugout and towards home plate, hands shaking and sweating inside his gloves. He hasn’t met up with Sokka in weeks, choosing to steer clear of Deja Brew and pointedly ignoring all of Sokka's texts and phone calls. Zuko doesn’t want to hear about Yue or the date, how nice everything is, how Yue’s the key to Sokka’s happily-ever-after or anything like that. Just the thought of Sokka being with someone else is enough to send Zuko’s heartbeat through the roof.

And for once in his life, Zuko’s grateful that they don’t go to the same school. He drowns himself in schoolwork in his room and finds himself practicing at the batting cages at absurd times, losing himself in anything but Sokka—to the point where Zuko almost forgets everything until he comes out of the shower one day to a long, rambling voicemail on his phone from Suki.

“Hey Zuko, you know you can’t just avoid him forever, right? Sokka really thinks that he did something to piss you off, which I guess he kinda did, by bringing Yue up and all that. But he doesn’t know! And you should really make up with him soon. I mean, you’re gonna end up seeing him again anyways ‘cause the playoffs are tomorrow, right? I’ll see you then.”

It all comes flooding back to Zuko. The regional playoffs. Agni Kai versus Omashu.

 _Sokka_.

Oh, spirits.

Zuko spends the entire night tossing and turning in bed, his thoughts clambering atop one another, his anxiety whispering into his ear. He has no idea how he’s going to face Sokka tomorrow—and at the playoffs, no less. Will Sokka be mad at him? Will he even want to play? _Oh spirits, am I going to go up against him?_

Breakfast does little to quell Zuko’s inner turmoil, and the fact that Lu Ten sends him a text about coming to the game doesn’t make it any better, either. Zuko spends the majority of the game huddled in the dugout behind Chan until Coach Zhao finally drags him out to face Omashu’s star pitcher.

“You’re all we got left, Huo. I know you got it,” the coach calls after him.

Zuko finally takes his place at the plate. Jet, the catcher, scrutinizes him, his expressions hidden behind his mask. “So you’re the one who’s been giving my guy a bad time.”

Zuko makes a point to ignore him, tapping his bat in the dirt and sending a silent prayer to the spirits above. He squares his shoulders, takes a breath, and stares straight ahead into the eyes of Sokka Qanik.

And it’s like the first time on the hillside all over again. Sokka’s face has matured, his freckles obscured under his baseball cap, but Zuko can see those piercing blue eyes searching his face, asking an unspoken question— _why?_

Zuko averts his gaze and switches to glaring at the ball instead. The bat trembles in his hands but he grips it tightly. Now’s not the time to lose focus.

 _Concentrate, Zuko_.

And _whump_.

“Strike!”

And another.

“Strike!”

Zuko can feel his heart thumping an awkward staccato against his uniform. He shifts his knees and tightens his grip once more.

The ball flies cleanly into Jet’s mitt.

Zuko lets out a breath he doesn’t even know he’s been holding, air rushing out of his lungs as he tosses his bat in the air and catches it. He can hear screaming and cheering all around him when he finally pulls off his helmet, running a wobbly hand through his hair.

Then comes a sudden breeze, and there are arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him like there’s no tomorrow.

 _Sokka_. Zuko sighs. _Of course he would_.

“‘Course I would what?” Sokka rumbles from somewhere past Zuko’s ear, his voice muffled as he traces circles in Zuko’s back, fingertips tingling against Zuko’s shirt.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Zuko replies. “Just you coming over here, and all that. Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your team?” Zuko whispers as he tentatively hugs back. He can hear Sokka’s heart pounding against his body, his chest heaving up and down.

“‘M okay. They’re okay. We’re all okay—but you, Zuko.” A squeeze. “Had to come over, make sure you’re okay, too. ‘M sorry for striking you out.”

“I understand,” Zuko whispers back against the dull roar swirling around them. “It’s for the championships. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Sokka pulls back, blue eyes smoldering straight into Zuko’s amber ones. His next words are so quiet, Zuko wonders if he’s actually heard them or not. “Oh, yeah? Well, then I’m definitely not sorry for this.”

He leans down and presses a dry kiss against Zuko’s chapped lips.

Chaos erupts. Zuko can vaguely hear frenzied screaming (probably Suki—that girl has a voice that can carry on for miles) and bemused gasping (oh, dear Katara).

And just like that, Sokka breaks away, a crooked grin etched on his blushing face.

“But—I thought—Yue—wait, what—what— _whydidyoukissme?_ ” The words rush out in a torrent. Zuko trembles as Sokka laces their fingers together.

“Y’know, Zuko. I was wondering why that baseball was getting bigger.” Sokka walks them towards the dugout. “And then it hit me.”

“But you’re the pitcher. You’re the one throwing the ball away from you, right?” Zuko’s not sure how much more confusion he can take.

Sokka’s laughter comes out in short bursts. “No, you doof.”

And then he murmurs quietly. “Suki told me—”

“She _what_?” Oh, Suki is going to pay.

“She told me about, y’know, _feelings_? You and me? That’s what I meant by it hitting me,” Sokka continues. “Like, I know I’ve told you before that I don’t really do the feelings thing. But Zuko—I swear that I really, really, _really_ didn’t know that you also felt the same way.”

“You— _you like me_?” And _spirits above and below_ , Zuko’s heart is leaping into his throat again.

“Well yeah? I mean, when I went out with Yue, I wasn’t thinking about her or anything. I spent the entire time thinking about _you_. And how you took off that day when I mentioned the date. And don’t get me wrong, Yue’s a great person and all, but—” and Sokka’s fingers tighten, “—she’s not you. She’s just not you. And I realized that if I was gonna spend time doing anything with anyone in the entire world, I would do it with _you_.”

Sokka hesitates, rubbing their fingers together. “I just really like you, Zuko. And I hope you’ll give me a chance.”

They’ve just reached the dugout, and the rest of the Agni Kai team swarms towards the pair to draw Zuko back into their ranks. He barely has a moment before Sokka’s squeezing his palm one last time and loosening his grasp, turning and jogging back towards his euphoric team celebrating on the pitcher’s mound.

Zuko beams, his heart feeling warmer by the second. He can see Lu Ten out of the corner of his eye, his cousin clapping in the stands and shooting him a peace sign when their eyes meet.

And Zuko just smiles to himself, cheeks glowing as he remembers Sokka’s words, Sokka’s smile—Sokka’s heartbeat.

 _Just like an angel_.

Honestly.


End file.
